


And if you think you've seen me, I have to prove you that you're Wrong

by Imabouttobreak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, M/M, Mental Instability, Not A Happy Ending, This is a clusterfuck, Violence, steter is brief and not the main point of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 12:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14790231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imabouttobreak/pseuds/Imabouttobreak
Summary: Two unusual individuals meet under equally unusual circumstances.Everyone wants to find someone to trust... or mostly everyone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first and probably last fic. I'm Not a writer, and I'm pretty anxious about posting this. This story is just special to me. Also, I don't claim to have any psychological expertise, and I'm not fond of just randomnly labeling any condition, so any mental fuckery I will describe here is "anonymous". If you know how it feels like, I'm sorry. It sucks, right. One more thing, english is not my first language, in fact, it's not even my second, so please be patient with any mistakes that you'll find. Yeah, that's it, I'm done here. I hope you'll enjoy.

It’s not that Peter doesn’t have the ability to care. He cares. Sometimes. On rare occasions. It’s not his fault most people are not worthy of his attention. Frankly, what is the point of caring, people come, people go. That’s life. So what if now it’s his job to help them _go._ And why not, he even gets paid for it. He doesn’t ask why they want a person gone, it’s none of his business, and keeping said business with at least some kind of agreement with morality isn’t his concern. He gets the job done.

And now he has a new target. Some 37 year old male named Tom, okay looking, not that it matters. He has an address, already knows his schedule. Should be easy enough.

He decides to have a smoke while he waits in the shadows for Tom to walk through the alley. He knows he will, just a 10 minutes or so is left. For him to go to a bar and have some drink, and for Tom to stay and rot. Boring. He’s almost done with his cigarette when Tom shows up. Peter’s gun is ready, _he_ is ready to make a move when a second person shows up right after Tom. Which, what the hell, no one really passes through this alley, it leads to a nowhere where his loner of a victim lives. He stays standing in his place, they won’t notice him in the dark anyway. He notices something strange about the second person, who appears to be a young male (good thing is Peter can see in the dark, at least better than an average person can). What is it exactly, is he drunk? Or.. is he dancing? What the hell is the guy doing though, approaching with zigzags that look very much like a waltz to Tom with now something in his hand? Peter is thinking about how his mission is ruined when he sees the guy stab his victim in the neck. _His victim_ , who makes a quiet sound, falls on his knees and starts to choke on the blood. The guy is now standing over Tom and looks at him with what Peter thinks is a curious look. He stands with the same look on his face until Tom is dead, then Peter hears him laugh quietly and turn around to go.

Well, he certainly didn’t expect _that_ to happen. Huh, interesting, but no, not really, it was _not boring_ at best. Whatever, the guy is dead, he might as well report it and wait for the other half of his money. Now is the time to get that drink.

………

  A week has passed with no new kill offers. It’s fine though, Peter has enough money for now, and sooner or later someone will show up. There are always people who need someone dead and not willing to get their hands dirty. It’s pathetic, honestly. But just as well, it means more jobs for people like him.

Peter sits in a bar, downing some whiskey in a quiet corner. Not much though, he just likes the taste, not really a fan of being drunk . He needs his head clear. The bar appears to be quite full of people, maybe because it’s Friday or maybe it’s a popular place, who knows. Peter doesn’t like visiting the same place more than twice, people will start to remember his face and no one needs _that_. He looks at the people in the bar with no real interest. Some find it fascinating to observe people doing their mundane things and living their life, but Peter can’t see why. They’re annoying and so incredibly boring.

He thinks it’s time to go and almost gets up when he sees a guy waltz his way into the bar. Waltzing, alone, in a place full of people. Of course. He’ll be damned if it isn’t the same guy from the alley. How very... uh, not boring. Maybe he’ll stay for a bit and observe this guy who ruined his kill last time.  
The guy looks young, 22 or 23 maybe, he has a pretty, nice face, which now that Peter knows what to look for has a subtle cruel expression on it despite the fact that he’s now giving a friendly smile to the bartender. The guy orders a Coke, and starts looking around, focusing on each and every person for half a minute, deciding something to himself and turning to the next one. Somehow he doesn’t look over Peter, probably because Peter is sitting in the most isolated and dark corner of the bar. Twenty-five minute or so and the guy is done with whatever he was deciding. Peter has followed the guy’s every move but couldn’t figure out which one from the crowd the guy chose. Maybe he didn’t find what he was looking for. Maybe Peter will follow the guy to see what he does next. Why not, he can’t live with constant boredom, maybe this is the distraction he needs.

And so he follows the Pretty Face who doesn’t seem to notice him. Because of course he doesn’t, Peter’s a pro after all.  
Peter starts to wonder if the guy is just a batshit crazy lunatic, because he keeps waltzing in the street, not like when you hold a partner to dance, just moving his legs in a waltz manner. It’s dark outside, even the street lights aren’t giving much light. Peter follows the guy who keeps wondering aimlessly, or so it seems. Eventually the guy stops in front of a ruined building, over a pile of something, garbage maybe? He starts to poke the pile and only then Peter realizes it’s a person, a homeless one wrapped in too many layers of blankets. The person, a middle aged man apparently, doesn’t even have time to react as Peter watches the guy empty a syringe of something in the man’s neck. What is with this guy and necks, honestly. It doesn’t knock off the man unconscious, it just paralyzes him. He looks with an horror to the guy, not able to make a sound. The building is probably full of homeless people, Peter thinks, but that doesn’t seem to bother the guy, maybe he likes a good rush of adrenaline, who is Peter to judge after all. The guy takes out a knife and keeps it in front of the man’s face whose eyes are now almost falling out of their orbits. He laughs with the same quiet laugh and starts to stab the man all over his body. After what was like 15 stabs he stops, stands and looks with curious expression, again. The man dies quickly after that. Peter watches the guy walk away without dancing this time.  
Peter finds himself following the guy home, it’s a 30 minutes of walk. He lives in a nice building, in a relatively quiet area of their city. Peter leaves after that, deciding to swing by tomorrow. What for, he’s not sure, probably it’s the boredom. If this guy is a serial killer or something of the sort, it wouldn’t hurt to know.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles likes the park, the quiet, he likes nature. It’s relaxing. He needs to relax, to be away from people at least on the weekends, since it’s not an option during the week, having a job and all that comes with it. He  works in forensics, has a quiet job at laboratory. It could’ve been more quiet but he can tolerate it for now. Killing those two men certainly helped him, he’s more at ease now. It felt good, liberating. He had controlled himself for far too long, but now it’s not an option, not anymore, not when he knows what taking a life feels like. All the tension he keeps inside leaving his body. It’s a sheer wonder he was able to refrain himself from doing it for so many years now. Wonder? No, it was stupid and pointless. He was in hell for so long, he should’ve done it earlier. It was also interesting, watching them die, seeing how they _know_ they’re dying and aren’t able to prevent it. Very interesting indeed.

Stiles feels calm now, like he can manage it for a week or two. That is unless something unexpected comes up and ruins his life. He hates everything unexpected, and every time it happens Stiles loses a huge amount of precious nerves. He needs to be in control.

He closes his eyes and enjoys the quiet, the sound of birds and the water. After what feels like a half an hour he opens his eyes and finds that he’s no longer alone in the park. And that’s fine, everyone has a right to come here, it’s a beautiful place after all. Only it’s not fine and it irritates him. This was supposed to be his alone time, and now some man thinks he can be here and ruin his day? Stiles doesn’t think so, he very much would like to fucking murder this man right here and now. But he can’t, not in a public place and not in a broad daylight. Also not when the man looks much stronger than him, and… dangerous? Is he imagining it or does said man look at _him_? Why the fuck does he look at him? No, Stiles doesn’t have the right energy to handle this now. He gets up and decides to search for another place to sit, the park is big enough.

He settles himself under a tree and takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again. He starts to relax when he hears a sound of someone approaching. “Don’t be him, just don’t be him, go away, okay?” he thinks to himself, but it doesn’t look like the luck is on his side.

“Hello there, mind if I join you?” Stiles opens his eyes to see that very man standing in front of him, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, looking all confident. It’s just infuriating. 

“Why, there are other trees all over the park,” he says not wanting to even sound friendly, which he normally does.

“That I can see,” the man chuckles, “I just wouldn’t mind some company, which doesn’t happen very often, I must admit.”

“Aha, cry me a river,” Stiles says but he actually looks at the man. Handsome, yes, but Stiles’ instincts tell him there’s something more to this man. He somehow looks both innocent and dangerous, and that makes Stiles wary. But then again, he can handle it if he needs to. “Whatever, sit if you want, just try not to bother me, I’m not leaving again because of you.”

The man sits, and for a few moments they both are quiet.

“Lovely place, I forgot how peaceful nature can be,” the man says.

“Doesn’t look like you appreciate it much, maybe you should try and actually stay quiet, you know, like how I told you to,” Stiles snaps with his eyes closed.

The man just laughs at that. Now Stiles just has to open his eyes, again, fucking again. He stares at the man with such fury that the man stops, but keeps his amused expression. Stiles would like to smash that face with a brick. “Calm down, Stiles, not now, not here,” he thinks. He takes deep breaths and hopes it will help.

“I’m terribly sorry, that was quite rude of me,” the man says, “It has been a long time since anyone dared to talk to me like that, it just surprised me is all.”

Stiles just glares at him. What is he supposed to say to that? He’s not sure he even has to say anything. Damn strangers and their need for _company_ and conversations.

“I get it you come here often?” the man asks.

“From what exactly do you get it?” Stiles asks back. What does this man even want, maybe he should just ask him. “And why do you actually bother here, talking to people you know nothing about, how can that be a company someone wants? Or maybe the right question is, what kind of person would want a company of a total stranger? Maybe you should give me an answer here before I come up with mine.”

“So you’re willing to bother to even come up with one?” the man smirks.

“Just as long as I’m here and you continue to bother me, don’t flatter yourself.”

The man is now looking at him strangely, what is it, like he _knows_ something about him? Like he _wants_ to know something about him? Stiles can’t quite put his finger on it and it pisses him off. Maybe it’s just a normal kind of interest, but when was the last time _that_ happened. He knows it’s not because of his looks, he knows he’s handsome, pretty even, what.. it is what it is. He also knows that he has a kind of aura that pushes people away. So no, it doesn’t feel like a normal interest after all. He’s just not sure what to make of this person.

“Honestly, I’m not sure why myself. Usually it’s not a thing I do. What is the worst that can happen here though?” he answers. “I can tell we’re both capable of hostility, but what do you say we don’t go there without much necessity?” he smirks. “The name’s Peter. Would you mind sharing yours?” the man asks with a raised eyebrow and an expression that looks both amused and bored.

Wait, wait, he can tell what now? And Stiles can tell that _something_ is not right here. No, not at all, it doesn’t feel right. But he can’t just walk away now, can he? It’s not paranoia, he just knows he can’t let this man out of his sight now, he needs to know what his deal is. So if he wants to talk, let’s talk. He can play  too, if he has to.

He gives Peter a long, sharp look before answering, “It’s Stiles.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been a month since Peter and Stiles started to talk. They would meet, not often, once during two weeks, and never on weekends. It was Stiles’ demand, that Peter should not bother him on weekends. Peter finds Stiles to be an interesting companion, easy to talk to. He is aware of the fact that Stiles doesn’t trust him, which is so fine by him because neither does he. Peter also finds it interesting how normal Stiles seems. He never could’ve guessed this person who is undoubtedly very intelligent, seemingly kind and friendly to be capable of murder, and not just any murder, but the sadistic kind that you do for fun (or for whatever reason Stiles did it, Peter’s not entirely sure yet). But he knows the facts, and he wonders if this normal face Stiles shows to everyone is just a well executed act or he is actually both at the same time. But he’s not quick to give a verdict just yet, after all they’ve properly talked only twice (thrice if you count the park).

Peter never said anything to Stiles about what he saw, it gives him an illusion of having an upper hand. Yes, he knows it’s an illusion because sooner or later Stiles will find out the truth. Peter has good instincts, but he can feel that Stiles is no way inferior to him.  And what will Peter do when that happens?  Killing Stiles is one way, of course, but maybe Stiles will give him more options than the most simple and boring one. And he hasn’t been bored with Stiles, not yet anyway.  But maybe Stiles would want to finish him off first? It’s more likely if he’s being honest.  Still, Peter appreciates their once-in-two-weeks meetings. They don’t talk about themselves much, both being as secretive as expected.  Their topics vary from philosophy to science, from literature to psychology, sometimes even movies. It’s entertaining enough.

They meet on Mondays, also Stiles’ demand. But this one was a busy week for Peter, with several new kills to plan, and he suggested they meet on Friday. Peter felt Stiles’ hesitation but he agreed to it eventually. He also wasn’t sure why, but this time Stiles also agreed they go to a place that Peter chose. Nothing too fancy or pricy, he promised. Peter is just tired of fast food that Stiles apparently so likes to consume.

The restaurant Peter chose is nicely dark, with just a touch of gothic. He orders water and waits for Stiles to arrive. After ten more minutes Stiles shows up, gives a quick look to the place, notices Peter and makes his way toward him.

“Hey there, _Peter_ ,” he drags the name as he does when he’s uncomfortable, Peter gathered that much.

“Stiles,” Peter sneers in return.

“Listen, just so you know, I’m not in a mood for serious debates today, we’ll have to keep it simple. Do you mind or can I look at the menu now, I’m starving,” Stiles says, almost managing to sound bored but Peter feels the unease that comes from him in waves. Huh, looks like Stiles dearest is on edge, why, did Peter get in the way of a therapeutic killing session maybe?

“I don’t mind,” Peter hands him the menu, “is everything alright?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be. Just tired, you know, end of the week and all,” Stiles gives him a weary look, “Oh, what a surprise, so there actually is something edible in here.”

Peter decides to ignore the remark, “So, what do you have in mind that can be considered _simple?”_

“Not sure. What do people normally talk about? Family, everyday life, blah blah, I don’t know. Tell me about your job maybe, sounds simple enough, don’t you think?”

“Why, Stiles, it’s almost insulting that you think I might be doing anything simple,” Peter takes a sip of his water while Stiles looks at him expectantly, “I fix problems.”

“Well, that is in no way vague. What kind of problems? Mind to specify?”

“Different kind of problems. Everyone has their reasons for calling me, but the result is the same for everyone, I take care of things.”

“I see,” Stiles doesn’t look all that impressed.

They tell their orders to the waiter, and wait for it to arrive. They don’t talk, Peter observes Stiles who appears to be deep in his thoughts. He wonders what is he thinking about, but Peter knows he won’t get an honest answer if he asks that question. Whatever Stiles is thinking it’s not anything relaxing, that much is clear, because he now looks around with desperation, then he catches Peter looking at him and stills, like he forgot where he was and now it came to him. Oh, screw it.

“What are you thinking about, Stiles?”

Stiles gives him a calculating look, “Honestly? About how much I want to get out of here, no offence to you, of course. You know there’s a reason why I asked we meet on Mondays. It’s hard for me to maintain even a simple conversation right now.”

“Actually, I never asked for an explanation. So why exactly is hard for you?” if he’s going for honesty, which is surprising, Peter might as well get another answer.

“Because, _Peter_ , some of us need to recover from the long week before having to deal with more social interactions. As I said, I’m just tired. Don’t take it personally,” he says as their food arrived.

“Well, sounds reasonable enough, though I don’t claim to understand how it feels like. So why did you agree to come at all?”

Stiles seems embarrassed at the question, though thinks it over for a minute, then  “I feel bad about refusing. I know you seem to enjoy our talks, and believe me, I do too, but there are days, like today, when my energy tank is almost empty. It just takes a lot from me, you know?”

No, Peter actually doesn’t know. He’s also sure this explanation is only a part of the whole truth. But Stiles really seems to be struggling. Maybe he’ll take a pity on the guy and cut things short for today. But just maybe.


	4. Chapter 4

Someone should give him a fucking medal for making it till the end yesterday. It was torture, the pure and heavy kind. Saturday. Thank God, is there a God out there? Who cares, it’s Saturday. Stiles lies in his bed, still feeling the tension from yesterday, it won’t just go away unless he does something about it. What _can_ he do though? His new found way of relaxing isn’t an option for now, not with Peter still in the picture. Right, Peter. What is he going to do about him? He’s more suspicious of the man than ever. Yes, yes, he was honest when he told Peter he enjoys their conversations, what’s there not to enjoy? But he doesn’t trust him, and that ruins things. Well, he doesn’t trust anyone. But “ _anyone”_ doesn’t show interest in him or tries to have deep and interesting conversations. So usually the lack of trust isn’t a problem. What also doesn’t help the situation is how confident Peter seems. No one is that confident around him. Sure, Stiles smiles at people, pretends to be kind when necessary, sometimes people even tend to trust _him_ , but they are never at full ease around him. And _that_ is how things SHOULD BE.  

Hey, Brain? Back to Peter now, please? Right. To Stiles it feels like Peter knows something about him. NO, it’s not paranoia, HE’S NOT FUCKING PARANOID, ugh, calm down maybe? Sorry, yes, he’s just rational and observant. What about sixth sense, that could be it? _Wherever_  the feeling’s coming from, it causes Stiles to worry. Now, see, the thing is, even if Peter saw him kill one of those two, that just means he was there too. And what was exactly a man like him doing there? _A man like him_ , are you serious, Stiles? Yes, he’s fucking serious, the man is very handsome, intelligent, interesting, secretive and... don’t forget dangerous, remember?   _Of course_ Stiles remembers, it’s one of the things that still keeps him curious, that he still has to figure out. But Stiles himself is all these things and so much more as well. Hey, not fair, then how come... oh, but here’s an idea, what if Peter is someone like him? But that doesn’t fit the profile, does it? Why not? It doesn’t when the criteria is defined as just “someone like him”, but if try it generally? A killer. Well look at that, is it wishful thinking or does it actually fit? Stiles just has to prove this theory somehow, but that shouldn’t be difficult. Oh look, he even has an idea how to do it. Haha, that should be fun. Fun? It’s not a laughing matter, his safety is at stake. Oh shut up, it sounds like fun.

Huh, and what did Peter say, he fixes problems? Stiles thought _that_ to be vague? It’s basically transparent. Wait, it’s actually so obvious that he thinks now that Peter _wanted_ him to figure out? But why? Who would be stupid enough to trust someone with a secret like that? Self-confident idiots, that’s who.

Stiles starts to laugh, he is so not going to let this just slide. A possible hit man sees him kill, then decides to become his friend? What can be more foolish than that? Oh, he knows the answer. If he actually starts to trust Stiles, that’s what. Isn’t it an interesting game to play?

Stiles gets up and starts to move around his apartment. All the tension from before is now replaced with frantic energy. He forces himself not to call Peter here and now to get his proof. Instead he starts to punch walls and kick chairs. But it’s not helping, IT’S NOT HELPING, he needs to fucking stab someone, something, ANYTHING.  

 He takes a knife from kitchen and starts to gut the pillow. Soon there’s nothing left of it except feathers  scattered all over the floor. He takes his head in his hands and starts to scream.

He calms down after a while. After moments like this he always feels so pathetic, that’s why he was so done with it. That’s why he decided to finally take his chances with humans, not a fucking pillow or random furniture. And it was wonderful, but now he’s back to where he started.

What’s the worse that could happen if he does go for a kill? If Peter really knows and didn’t do anything about it yet, it means he doesn’t care. It’s not like Stiles cares about anyone’s opinion, but honestly, wouldn’t it be just hypocritical if he judged Stiles? So what if they have different reasons for killing, at the end of the day, does it even matter?  Also, if Stiles is right about him, then it probably means that Peter killed so many more people than he did. He killed only two for fuck’s sake! Pathetic, pathetic, it’s so PATHETIC. Wait, maybe he can try to use Peter to his advantage, just for a little while. Cool, cool, maybe he’ll see to that later.

Anyway, Stiles has only guesses about Peter’s motives, so no, he wouldn’t do anything until the problem is dealt with. He will tolerate this hell and will patiently wait for their next meeting, he wouldn’t rush it, let Peter think he’s still ahead of Stiles.

Until then, he always wanted to know what would it feel like to stab himself in the stomach. Oh, he can hear his waltz now. Impeccable timing, Brain.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter goes to the park where he’s supposed to meet Stiles. He’s early, finished his research on his new target who will be dead by tomorrow night. That’s the plan, and with him everything goes as planned. And now his plan is to enjoy nature (who would’ve thought he might miss it but here he is) before Stiles’ arrival. As he walks he thinks about.. wait, is that _Stiles?_

He approaches to Stiles who sits on the grass with his feet crossed, hands on his knees, holding his head. What’s wrong with him?

 “Stiles?”, he says while putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder, “are you feeling alright?”

Stiles slowly rises his head and looks at Peter with unfocused glare for a moment before realizing who the man in front of him is, “Peter? Aren’t you early?”

“Yes, as you very well can see for yourself. I asked if everything is fine with you, you don’t look fine.”

“Well, _Peter_ , that might be because I’m not actually fine, as you can see for yourself too” he shots him an angry look which quickly changes to a sad and lost one, “I’m sorry, it’s just, there’s...” he stops.

This is the first time Peter sees Stiles like this, he has his usual snarky side in place but now he’s also.. vulnerable? That’s new. Also _not_ what Peter signed up for, but he can’t just walk away from the guy now when he clearly needs some help. Well, of course he can, but why, he’s not done with Stiles yet.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” he says and sits himself on the grass to Stiles’ right.

“No, sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with my problems...” he looks down on his hands.

Huh, something that’s got Stiles to say sorry twice? That sounds serious enough. Interesting.

“It’s no bother, you can trust me. So, what’s the matter?”

Peter can see Stiles’ hesitation for a couple of minutes, and he just waits. But then Stiles seems to make a decision.

“ _This_ is,” he says, lowering the scarf he was wearing to reveal a vertical deep cut on his neck, “I don’t remember how this happened.”

“I see.”

And yet again, Peter hasn’t been expecting _that._ Seriously, is the guy just full of surprises or is he losing his grip? The neck, he wondered once what was Stiles’ deal with necks. Now it looks like it might not be Stiles’ deal after all? Well, technically it still is Stiles’, just not the one he’s been speaking with all those times? Didn’t he also wonder if Stiles he saw in the dark and the one he’s been having an interesting time with were the same person or not? But this now seems like a reasonable explanation, doesn’t it?

“When do you think it happened?” he asks calmly.

“I’m not sure, I woke up in the morning and it was here, so during the night maybe? But how? How would something like this happen without me noticing?” he sounds irritated but also desperate.

“Is this the first time it happened?”

Silence.

“Stiles?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, it happened before. Three times.”

“Can you tell me about those times?”

“I, uh...look,” he rises his shirt to reveal now a wound on his stomach, deep enough, but in a process of healing. Did he got.. no, not like that, did _he_ stab himself? He, or the other he, whichever, did _Stiles_ stab himself?? “This one happened two weeks ago.”

Two weeks ago. The last time they met was two weeks ago. It was also the time Peter thought Stiles was on edge. Is this how he had dealt with it?

“What about the other two times? Do you also have wounds in other places?” he asks, already suspecting that no, probably he doesn’t.

“No. They’re different.”

Yes, Peter thought so. But still, let him say it.

“Alright, different how?”

“Should I trust you, Peter?” Stiles looks at him with serious expression.

Trust. Trust is a touchy subject with them both, isn’t it? But Peter is willing to help, so that should be enough for now.

“I don’t know if you should, but you can. I want to help, if you’ll let me.”

They both stay silent for several minutes.

“It happened a month or so ago,” he starts quietly, “both times I woke up with dirty hands and clothes, holding a bloody knife. No wounds on myself. I...” he stops and looks at Peter with pleading eyes, “Peter, I think I did _something_ and I can’t even remember it.”

There it is. Now the question is, what is Peter going to do about this? Should he tell Stiles about what he witnessed? Should he suggest to see a doctor like a decent person would do? But he’s not decent, is he, no, far from it. He has his own agenda, and Stiles being at doctor’s mercy doesn’t go well with his wishes. But what exactly does he wish for? A murder buddy? Somebody to talk to about how much money he makes with each murder, which knifes are better, which gun should one chose for each case? No, he’s not lonely, he’s bored. And the opportunities to have someone interesting in the know with similar secret as his... It’s tempting. But of course there’s still the question of trust. He didn’t trust Stiles before, but now? Does this new information about him actually change things? Maybe. Or maybe not. But if he helps Stiles with his little problem, maybe Stiles will start to trust _him_ and things might go from there. To where? They’ll see.

“Stiles, I think I can help you. But we’ll have to meet again tomorrow. Tomorrow night, to be exact.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You’re just on time,” Peter says as Stiles walks into the cabin the address of which Peter had told him earlier. It’s pitch black outside, the sound of heavy rain and thunder so loud that it almost hurts to hear.

 “What exactly is this place?” Stiles eyes the place with suspicion while taking off of his now disgustingly wet coat. It’s a small place, with a lot of free space though, there are two chairs at the center, and a big safe near the wall. “Why am I here, Peter?”

Peter rolls his eyes, “What do _you_ think this place is? As to why you’re here, I’ll explain, but you may want you sit down for that, and... try not to panic, please, don’t make me do something I don’t want to,” he says, his voice now serious.

Stiles sits on a chair and shots him a quick wary look.

“You know the obvious thing a normal person would do in your situation is turn to a psychologist. And you haven’t done that. I take it you have a reason?”

Stiles just scowls at him, but then manages to collect himself.

“No psychologists. Never. I don’t want to explain, Peter. Just, no.”

After that he tells Stiles everything. Well, everything that concerned Stiles directly, of course.

“So, it’s obvious what the problem here is. All that’s left is to decide what will you do about it,” he finishes.

Stiles just watches him. And watches. Seriously? He still does. More sounds of thunder from outside.  Finally, “And you expect me to believe that,” it’s not exactly a question, more like he states a fact.

 “I don’t see a reason not to. Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know yet, Peter, why would you?”

“Look, I could’ve just said nothing and let you kill yourself eventually. Because that’s what is happening here. That is, unless you prevent it.”

Stiles keeps looking at him like he can’t actually believe that this thing right now is happening. Then his face changes to more worried expression, then disbelief, then to thoughtful for a whole minute, then to suspicious and finally to a determined one.

“Okay. I was the one to wake up with blood on my hands and missing memories, can’t see how you could’ve  faked _that_. Well technically I can, but it’s becoming too complicated and... just, I believe you,” he sighs. “What should I do? Looks like you have something in mind?”

“I do,” he says simply. “I don’t know why you’ve stopped, but some part of you wants to cause harm. And if you don’t want to be a punching bag for it, you should do exactly what that part wants. You should kill again,” well, he’s sure there are many ways to deal with this situation, but he’s going for the less boring one and hopes Stiles will accept it.

 

Peter decides to give Stiles time to process his suggestion. Stiles in his turn gets up and starts to pace around the place, holding his head in his heads. After ten more minutes of pacing and silence Peter is done waiting.

 “Stiles, listen, it’s simple. Either you kill someone who’s already about to die, or you continue to harm yourself until it kills you.”

“What? What do you mean ‘someone who’s about to die’ ?”

“I mean, that I am so very kind to let _you_ kill the person that _I’m_ supposed to kill,” Peter says already bored of this conversation. “ The choice is yours, Stiles. Will you do it or not?”

Stiles stops pacing. The thunder makes a sound so loud that he jumps in surprise and winces.

“I don’t want to die by mw own hands without even realizing it,” he sounds disgusted at the thought, “I’ll do it.”

Finally. Honestly, Peter is surprised it took that long, there really wasn’t so much of a choice after all.

“Then come with me,” he says, leading Stiles to a small room, where he has put his target. A male. He’s glad it’s a male, because apparently Stiles hasn’t killed a woman yet, so he’s less likely to change his mind now.

Stiles looks at the tied up, gagged and unconscious man in front of him with wide eyes.

“You want me to kill this man.”

“No, _you_ want to kill this man. But I will if you don’t,” he says coldly.

“Why did they want him dead?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t ask that question, Stiles, and I don’t care either. My job is to kill, not to question my employer’s motives. ”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” Stiles says through gritted teeth.

Peter passes him the knife.

“Have fun.”

Stiles stays still for a long moment before poking lightly with the knife at the man’s throat, but it was enough to wake him up. Peter thinks that now it will become complicated but decides to just observe for now. Stiles starts to walk in circles around the man, with each completed circle  becoming more and more the guy Peter saw in the street and at the alley. He slowly begins his dance, his waltz, like there’s a music playing that only he can hear. He waltzes around the man and slashes him every time he’s getting close to him. Slash after a slash after a slash and so on. He continues it two more times even after it was clear the man was dead. Stiles stops, turns to Peter, and for a moment Peter thinks he’s going to try to kill him too, but instead Stiles throws away the knife, walks over Peter and kisses him.

It takes Peter aback, but he quickly recovers and responds to the kiss. He feels the wild energy coming from Stiles who doesn’t seem to want to stop. Peter forces Stiles away, and when Stiles looks confused he says, “You want to do this in front of a dead man?”

“I don’t really care about it now,” he confesses, “do you?”

“No. Why would I?” he chuckles.


	7. Chapter 7

All things considered, Peter’s glad for the choice he made. Stiles is back to his normal self, but in the two weeks that have passed he never once mentioned the killing part of that night. It’s like for him it never even happened. But now they meet two times a week, that’s a progress. Or maybe it’s the sex, not a progress at all, since they don’t talk while doing it. Peter doesn’t really want to poke around and remind Stiles, he thinks if Stiles or the other part of him need it, they’ll come to him. Or they won’t. He suspects that maybe some part of Stiles was wary of him, and maybe that’s why Stiles stopped going for random kills in random places. Maybe now they’ll manage without him, like before. He actually can understand that and he’s not going to follow Stiles around to find out, there’s no point now, is there.

It’s well past midnight. They’re at Stiles’ place now, lying in bed after the first round of sex.. more yet to come. But Stiles seems distracted now, he’s thinking hard about something. And Peter lets him think, he’ll spill it out when he’s ready.

It takes Stiles one more round and one more hour of thinking to be ready.

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

“I think that I... or the, uh, .. just, I need to kill again,” he says quietly, “This time I can feel it coming.”

“Oh. And you’re telling me because..?”

“I was hoping you would help me again.. and give me one of yours,” he sounds embarrassed now, as he should be, huh.

“Well, my next will be tomorrow, but it’s a woman. Sure you can handle that?”

“I don’t know, I think so? Not like it’s me who’ll do it anyway. You know what I mean.”

“I know. And it doesn’t bother you ethically?”

“All of us will die someday, man and woman. I don’t feel any different about it. Should I?”

“Not at all. Fine then, you know the address. Be there at midnight.”

The woman Stiles is about to kill actually is very good looking, and no matter how many people have died at one’s hand, it’s always hard to kill something beautiful. That is, for someone who appreciates beauty. And not everyone is capable of that. Even Peter finds it difficult, but wouldn’t be the first time.

Stiles doesn’t  seem to be bothered by it. When he arrived Peter could feel he was different already, not his dance mode on different, but the Stiles he knew wasn’t there. Now Peter was watching Stiles making not deep cuts over the woman’s body, who passed out again out of fear and pain. This one is more like torture, not what Peter does usually, but he doesn’t really care. He goes to wait in the bigger room with two chairs.

After some time Stiles comes out, his hands bloody and a cold smile on his face. He wipes his hand with a cloth lying around.

“Thank you, Peter,” he says looking the man in the eye, “this means a lot.”

Peter still isn’t sure which Stiles is talking when Stiles kisses him. They keep kissing and he’s so focused on it that he doesn’t bother with a strange sting in his neck. Until just after a second he realizes he can’t move. At all.


	8. Chapter 8

“Well! Here we are, at least!” Stiles is euphoric. He did good. Actually he’s so proud of himself. Why wouldn’t he. All his plans worked out just he wanted them to. He’s aware the he sounds like a lunatic but he just can’t stop laughing.

“Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry,” he says as the man lies on the floor, looking at him with so much anger and.. what’s there, hurt? Is that hurt?? Oh, it so is! A new wave of laughter comes out of Stiles as he realizes it. He knew he could do it.

“Listen, I’ll give you a quick death, I owe you that much. After all you were really good with me. And I appreciate it, I do. Please believe me.” He sits on the floor near the man. “I know you want to kill me now, but since it’s not what’s going to happen I can at least explain why I did this.”

“But first, do you think I could get an Oscar with that performance? Not that I want it, but you know, it’s nice to be recognized. Two different persons inside of one Stiles. You actually bought it, you so did! Not entirely your fault, don’t blame yourself, you don’t have much time left for that anyway. I was convincing, totally not your fault.”

He gets up and starts to walk around Peter in circles.

“I mean, it was over the top, I admit it, there were many easier ways to make you talk and reveal yourself, but this little act here was so much fun. Except the part when I was always watching my back. _Always_ , Peter. I’m sorry that this.. _us_ , didn’t work out. It never could. I don’t need anyone. I don’t _trust_ anyone. And look at you now, the tiny amount of trust that you allowed yourself  to have got you here. Tell me, what good is that? It was a mistake. A stupid one. TRUST IS A KILLER. Didn’t you know that? I’m sure you did. Then why did you choose to forget?? In a way, it’s fair to say that people kill themselves with being so naive and trusting. I mean, I couldn’t do anything if people weren’t so careless. So is it my fault? The danger is out there, they know that, and yet here we are. Stupid is the word for it, not the only one, but suits enough.”

“I talk too much, right? Sorry, usually I’m the only one who listens to this, no one else is allowed, but you’re about to die, I can make an exception. SO, WHERE WERE WE. Right. I just want you to know that this past two weeks were nice, you were nice, the sex was nice, the kills you provided were nice. I enjoyed all of it, I didn’t lie about _that_. BUT. Nothing nice and good lasts long. It just never does. You should’ve known that, I know that, EVERYONE KNOWS THAT. Maybe we could've been together for who knows how long, but then something unexpected would've happened and ruined it for one of us, or both of us, I don't know. And usually I like to know.  So, my point is, it’s better for me to finish with you now here, on _my_ terms and on a good note. I’ll have something nice to remember.”

He takes the knife and kneels beside the man.

“Goodbye, Peter. Forgive me.”

He forces the knife into Peter’s heart and watches the light in his eyes go out.

“Or don’t, I can’t bring myself to care, honestly.”

It’s over.

He’s alone once again. It’s all he ever wants, to be left alone with the madness, the sadness on his own.

Loneliness is for weak. He chooses to be alone. What does it make him? Why, does it matter? He just laughs. Everything is so pointless, yet everything has a meaning. He’s so done with it.

He was stupidly confident in himself too. He sees that now. He can’t pass all the blame to Peter and to the damned coincidences. That’s what makes him angry the most. The coincidences, the accidental turn of events, the every other thing that he can’t predict and control. How was he so confident before? This time it all turned out fine, what will it be next time? He CAN’T CONTROL EVERYTHING, he can’t, he can’t. No matter how much he tries to. So, one more time, what is he going to do? He doesn’t know. Let him be. Just let him fucking be. Who’s not letting him? There’s no one. No, it’s everyone. He hates everyone. He wants to kill everyone. Be done with everyone. NO! Stop with the music! It’s not time, it’s not safe. It’s never safe. It’s never going to be safe.

“Stop the music, STOP THE FUCKING MUSIC.”

He closes his ears, runs, wishing for an ounce of silence, screaming all the way, all the way, all the way.

 

**The End.**


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